


Ch. 13: The Case of the Mysterious Crate

by Syrena_of_the_lake



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Elementary (TV)
Genre: Dragon!Sherlock - Freeform, Dragons, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 02:56:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4205319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrena_of_the_lake/pseuds/Syrena_of_the_lake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finally, we find out what's in the crate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ch. 13: The Case of the Mysterious Crate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Transposable_Element](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transposable_Element/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Part 12: The Sound of Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4149459) by [Syrena_of_the_lake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrena_of_the_lake/pseuds/Syrena_of_the_lake). 



Eustace Scrubb had met a number of dragons in his lifetime, some more pleasant than others. And once, of course, he'd even had wings himself, felt the searing heat build up deep in his own chest... And indeed, the absence of that heat was like a hole that could never be filled. The loss of those wings, a wound never healed. Even though their very loss had filled and healed things inside him he'd never known were empty and broken, before. Even so, he felt a stab of draconian envy each time he looked at Sherlock.

But some gifts were never given twice.

And so it was Eustace who, with human hands carefully gloved in fireproof mitts, reached into the crate. Sherlock hovered over Joan's shoulder, his wings stirring the hot air. Eustace clamped the tongs around the object, lifted it, and swung it out of the crate with the ease of one who still knew how to wield a sword.

He set the glowing lump of brimstone on the asbestos pad with care, wondering absently what spell might have been set upon the crate that it did not burn.

"It's just a rock," complained Joan. After a pause - and presumably a mental comment from Sherlock - she added, "fine. Charcoal, then."

Eustace shook his head. "You're both wrong," he said, paying no mind to Sherlock's hiss of displeasure at the contradiction. 

"What is it, then?" asked Joan, who seemed to be channeling her partner's impatience.

"Why, an egg, of course." Eustace couldn't help but grin as the charred, coal-skinned egg rocked and smoked. With a sharp crack, a fissure split down the side, issuing an alarming amount of steam. "What luck! It's hatching."

**Author's Note:**

> Erm. So now we need to know what's inside the egg. And yes, I'm having flashbacks of Norbert in Hagrid's hut. Not sure how it helps Sherlock's predicament, though!


End file.
